


And Who Could Tell The Dogs From The Men?

by werewolfkeeper



Category: Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: Blood, Canon Universe, Comfort, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Animal Death, Implied/Referenced Drunkenness, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 23:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11861808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werewolfkeeper/pseuds/werewolfkeeper
Summary: "The old man tries to explain in French that he's not a human doctor...Donny takes the .45 and SHOOTS one of the DOGS in the cages.Everybody jumps."-Inglourious Basterds: A Screenplay by Quentin Tarantino





	And Who Could Tell The Dogs From The Men?

The gun had already gone off twice before he realized what was happening. Slowly before him, the scene came back into focus: the vet hastily digging through a cabinet, the woman - not the first bitch to lie on that table, but absolutely the worst - yelling, the dogs barking. His head spun, trying to catch up, and it didn't help that suddenly Aldo was stronger than he was, forcing him back into the front of the office they'd just barged through.

The ground undulated beneath his feet. He had to fight to keep his stomach out of his throat and, fuck, it probably showed. "What's this for, huh?"

Aldo, of course, looked perfectly steady and settled him with a stare that lasted a good, silent thirty seconds. "Boy, I know you ain't never seen one dead friend 'fore tonight, let alone two. An' I know it's my fault, lettin' you sip outta my flask when we both know it don't even take a whole drink to turn you useless. So, what you did in there -"

"What?" Donny put his shoulders back, stood as straight as he could, ready to challenge an accusation he didn't think he deserved. (Never mind that his words were almost slurring together - _almost_.) "Get the fuckin' ball rolling on savin' the life'a that _worthless cunt_?" With a raised voice, he leaned in the direction of the door to the other room.

The actress, muffled by the walls between them, shouted her reply in furious German, but before Donny could say, "Fuck you, too, sweetheart," Aldo yanked him back.

"Sergeant, you -"

Donny scoffed. "Oh, what - we pull rank now?"

" _Donny_ ," Aldo started again, slowly and through his teeth, and shit, if that just didn't feel worse. "You were and _are_ makin' a gahdamn commotion and this is _not_ the time, boy. Now what yer gonna do is shut that stupid trap'a yours and not open it until I tell you to. Understood?"

"Tch." He dropped the stance, but found of the edge of the desk behind him too quickly and had to struggle to make the hard seat he took on it look intentional. "They were fuckin' asking for it."

Hands on his hips, Aldo shook his head and sighed, gently but too clearly disappointed. "I think you know those dogs weren't askin' for any'a what you gave 'em."

"The - ?" Whatever Donny wanted to ask, it died in his throat and he choked on it, almost making himself physically ill. He didn't quite make it to dry-heaving, but his face got uncomfortably hot and wet, uncomfortably fast.

The look on the lieutenant's face hinted that he'd known this was what he would be in for. " _What you did in there_ ," he repeated emphatically, "that wasn't your fault. I'll take that one, it's on me. But that don't change the fact that I can't have you flyin' off the handle. Not now, not any other time tonight. You hear me?"

"Aw, fuck." Donny's arms and breath trembled, but he managed to pry one hand off the edge of the desk and press the heel of his palm into one of his eye sockets. Like that would help, fuck. But he nodded.

Without warning, Aldo's still-bloody fingers dug into his cheeks, cupping his jaw in one hand and forcing him to look up. To look his commanding officer in the eyes. "I need you all put together, soldier," was what Aldo told him. "And I need you with me, now'n always. So what we say you keep that fuckin' knife in its sheath and stick that gun somewhere it belongs, like up the ass'a this gahdamn kraut whore who lost us Stiglitz and Wicki 'til she starts singin' like she was s'posed to?"

His head bobbed up and down again, less frantic, and Aldo held him like that just a little longer while their mouths crushed hungrily together. Donny's eyes were drier and steadier than they'd been - all day, maybe - when they made their triumphant return.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been eight years and I've always been at odds with the shooting script version of the scene in the veterinarian's office. This was my attempt to rectify that, why that scene opens with Donny & Aldo coming out of a different room, and the very specific imprint of blood on Donny's face.


End file.
